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"Morguhn Sheridan, (mka John Glenn) succumbed on Tuesday, September 23, 2008 at 8:58pm to injuries sustained from a fall from his roof on Sunday September 21, 2008. He is survived by his Ladies, Duchess Rowan de al Garnison and Duchess Meirwen uerch Owein, other mundane family members, numerous Squires, Men-at-Arms, Cadets, pages, household members and all those whose life was touched by him.
Morguhn served the Society with his every fiber and was an example to all who knew and met him. He was always seen helping, schlepping and washing when he was not retaining, guarding, fighting or fencing. And in recent years it seemed that if he was not sitting the throne, he was standing behind it as either Queen's Rapier Champion or King's Heavy Weapon's Champion. Even in the end he served, having given all he could to the world, down to the marrow of his bones."
It's been so hard to put into words what I have been feeling over the last couple of days. I was shaken deeply by the news, and I have been feeling like I didn't have any right to tears. I didn't know His Grace all that well, really, especially in comparison to many of my friends. And I've been trying to explain to non-SCA friends Who This Person Was, and the extent of the grieving that's taking place, and I just can't seem to do it at all.
To say that Morghun was my First King, and have that mean anything to a person who doesn't play the game, doesn't quite carry the same import. And I'm not entirely sure that many SCAdians even can truly relate. Not everyone got to have SUCH a King to look upon with the eyes of one in their very first days of a lifetime in the Society.
Most SCAdians look upon their earliest days of the SCA with great fondness for the vision we saw before us. We are drawn to the ideals of love, honor, chivalry, courtesy. We are dazzled by the costumes, the candlelight feasts, the courtly arts, the music and dancing, the prowess of the fighters, the expertise of the artisans, and the powerful sense of community, of coming home, a place where we belong.
My First King was the pinnacle of each of these ideals. He was larger-than-life. Everyone knew his name. Everyone had stories of his greatness. I was utterly in awe.
He lived near enough to me that I had the honor of being often in his company, and many people I have dearly loved were in his innermost circle of friends. Personally, I was too shy in his presence to make conversation with him. I tried a few times, and he was always happy to speak with me - kind, courteous, occasionally flirtatious (in the friendly way common to SCA subculture). Sadly, my self-esteem at the time did not allow me to think myself worthy of his friendship. I have occasionally felt that way about others for passing moments, but never in my life have I experienced it as intensely as when face to face with Duke-Sir-Oh-My-God-It's-Morghun-Sheridan. Now I grieve for the moments I might have had if I had not been wasting my energy on self-deprecation.
Morghun had this Thing he did - if I call it "The Look" many will know just what I meant. He'd catch your eye, and hold it without any facial expression at all. It'd give you a skipped-heartbeat moment, like "Uh, oh. Wha'd I do?" When he'd see that look on your face, there'd be a twinkle in his eye. No other change on his face, but you could see that spark light up at 100 paces. Then it would change, ever so slightly, but unmistakably, to mischief. And you'd blush. Then, in the otherwise expressionless face, the eyes would laugh, knowing he'd gotten you. And then he'd move on as if nothing had just transpired, and you'd be standing there, weak-kneed, hot-cheeked, and speechless.
Although I am saddened beyond words, my suffering is nothing to that of so many others. Many of those most bereft are people I know and love well. I'm so heartbroken by their loss, each one different and uniquely poignant.
I keep hearing my the same voice in my head that echoed repeatedly after 9/11: "All those people…….."
I've been feeling the strangeness of living in two separate worlds. Within my SCA culture, all throughout the world, there is absolutely no one who has not heard of this terrible news. (Literally - the whole world, as in Planet Earth). The number of souls in torment from the loss of this great man is inestimable. Thousands of people have been deeply moved by their contact with him. The outpouring of grief and love and support during these past few days has been unlike anything I have ever seen personally. I am put in mind of the days and weeks following the passing of Princess Diana of Wales.
There's another post-9/11 thing I'm seeing, too. It's in the way people are bonding together, not just in the Kingdom(s) where he lived and was well-known on a personal level, but all over the world. There are messages from people in Australia, Afghanistan, Europe, all sending their condolences and offers of support. People are putting aside squabbles and grudges born over years in the light of what things are really Important. It's as if the whole world is crying out as one, united by their shock and grief.
And yet, my close friends in the modern world know nothing of it. It's not on the news, in the papers, on their e-lists. No one is writing poems about it, posting pictures on their MySpace and LiveJournal accounts. None of them have heard a word. It's so strange.
May we all find comfort in one another's love, and in the shared pictures and stories that make him, the Legend, the Hero, The King, live on.
"Morguhn Sheridan, (mka John Glenn) succumbed on Tuesday, September 23, 2008 at 8:58pm to injuries sustained from a fall from his roof on Sunday September 21, 2008. He is survived by his Ladies, Duchess Rowan de al Garnison and Duchess Meirwen uerch Owein, other mundane family members, numerous Squires, Men-at-Arms, Cadets, pages, household members and all those whose life was touched by him.
Morguhn served the Society with his every fiber and was an example to all who knew and met him. He was always seen helping, schlepping and washing when he was not retaining, guarding, fighting or fencing. And in recent years it seemed that if he was not sitting the throne, he was standing behind it as either Queen's Rapier Champion or King's Heavy Weapon's Champion. Even in the end he served, having given all he could to the world, down to the marrow of his bones."
It's been so hard to put into words what I have been feeling over the last couple of days. I was shaken deeply by the news, and I have been feeling like I didn't have any right to tears. I didn't know His Grace all that well, really, especially in comparison to many of my friends. And I've been trying to explain to non-SCA friends Who This Person Was, and the extent of the grieving that's taking place, and I just can't seem to do it at all.
To say that Morghun was my First King, and have that mean anything to a person who doesn't play the game, doesn't quite carry the same import. And I'm not entirely sure that many SCAdians even can truly relate. Not everyone got to have SUCH a King to look upon with the eyes of one in their very first days of a lifetime in the Society.
Most SCAdians look upon their earliest days of the SCA with great fondness for the vision we saw before us. We are drawn to the ideals of love, honor, chivalry, courtesy. We are dazzled by the costumes, the candlelight feasts, the courtly arts, the music and dancing, the prowess of the fighters, the expertise of the artisans, and the powerful sense of community, of coming home, a place where we belong.
My First King was the pinnacle of each of these ideals. He was larger-than-life. Everyone knew his name. Everyone had stories of his greatness. I was utterly in awe.
He lived near enough to me that I had the honor of being often in his company, and many people I have dearly loved were in his innermost circle of friends. Personally, I was too shy in his presence to make conversation with him. I tried a few times, and he was always happy to speak with me - kind, courteous, occasionally flirtatious (in the friendly way common to SCA subculture). Sadly, my self-esteem at the time did not allow me to think myself worthy of his friendship. I have occasionally felt that way about others for passing moments, but never in my life have I experienced it as intensely as when face to face with Duke-Sir-Oh-My-God-It's-Morghun-Sheridan. Now I grieve for the moments I might have had if I had not been wasting my energy on self-deprecation.
Morghun had this Thing he did - if I call it "The Look" many will know just what I meant. He'd catch your eye, and hold it without any facial expression at all. It'd give you a skipped-heartbeat moment, like "Uh, oh. Wha'd I do?" When he'd see that look on your face, there'd be a twinkle in his eye. No other change on his face, but you could see that spark light up at 100 paces. Then it would change, ever so slightly, but unmistakably, to mischief. And you'd blush. Then, in the otherwise expressionless face, the eyes would laugh, knowing he'd gotten you. And then he'd move on as if nothing had just transpired, and you'd be standing there, weak-kneed, hot-cheeked, and speechless.
Although I am saddened beyond words, my suffering is nothing to that of so many others. Many of those most bereft are people I know and love well. I'm so heartbroken by their loss, each one different and uniquely poignant.
I keep hearing my the same voice in my head that echoed repeatedly after 9/11: "All those people…….."
I've been feeling the strangeness of living in two separate worlds. Within my SCA culture, all throughout the world, there is absolutely no one who has not heard of this terrible news. (Literally - the whole world, as in Planet Earth). The number of souls in torment from the loss of this great man is inestimable. Thousands of people have been deeply moved by their contact with him. The outpouring of grief and love and support during these past few days has been unlike anything I have ever seen personally. I am put in mind of the days and weeks following the passing of Princess Diana of Wales.
There's another post-9/11 thing I'm seeing, too. It's in the way people are bonding together, not just in the Kingdom(s) where he lived and was well-known on a personal level, but all over the world. There are messages from people in Australia, Afghanistan, Europe, all sending their condolences and offers of support. People are putting aside squabbles and grudges born over years in the light of what things are really Important. It's as if the whole world is crying out as one, united by their shock and grief.
And yet, my close friends in the modern world know nothing of it. It's not on the news, in the papers, on their e-lists. No one is writing poems about it, posting pictures on their MySpace and LiveJournal accounts. None of them have heard a word. It's so strange.
May we all find comfort in one another's love, and in the shared pictures and stories that make him, the Legend, the Hero, The King, live on.